


Good Vibrations of a Guardian Angel

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, F/M, Guardian Angel, Humor, Romance, SSHG Promptfest, a talking vibrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: Severus found it quite difficult to be dead. It was turning out to be a lot of work...especially when he's assigned as Hermione Granger's Guardian Angel. Written for the SSHG Promptfest 2018.





	1. Afterlife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are owned by JK Rowling.
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely beta Lucefray27!
> 
> This is an expanded version of a fic written for the SSHG Promptfest 2018.

“Severus Snape,” a deep voice growled in the dark. “Your actions have been judged. And you have been condemned to the _fiery pits of Hell_!”

A harsh light flashed in his eyes, bouncing off the stark, white walls of the room. As he blinked to clear his vision, he took in the features of the figure that hovered over him: broad shoulders, charcoal hair, and mocking grey eyes.

“Gotcha again, Snivellus!” Sirius Black whooped at his own joke.

Severus groaned. “I truly am in Hell,” he muttered.

“Not quite,” Sirius mused. “Though it’s pretty close. Don’t tell me you’re not excited to see me even a little bit?” He stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

The corners of Severus’ mouth twisted in repugnance.

Sirius snorted. “Come on,” he said. “I’m supposed to deliver you.” He turned around and walked through the steel door that had materialized behind him.

Severus followed a moment later, keeping a cautious distance from his childhood nemesis. “Where are we, Black?” he asked as they strode down a long, narrow hallway. There seemed to be no escape from this path. No doors appeared on either side of him as he craned his neck, looking up at the impossibly high ceiling.

“Here we are,” Sirius said abruptly, and Severus shifted his gaze forward—just in time to register the metal door before his nose smashed against it.

Sirius’ guffaw echoed down the corridor.

Severus rubbed the tip of his nose. He was surprised that he felt no pain.

“Watch where you’re going, Snape—especially in this place,” said Sirius, after he calmed down. “One moment, you’re a kilometer away from the door you’re looking for, and the next, it’s smacking you in the face. Something about time and space not being grounded in this dimension—” Sirius’ nose wrinkled. “—I don’t know, I didn’t pay attention at orientation. They’ll explain it inside.” He gestured to the door.

Severus rolled his eyes at the man’s blatant disinterest. He shoved the door open and stepped over the threshold. Inside, a lanky man stood behind a large, wooden desk.

“Hello, Severus,” Remus Lupin said, waving him closer. He looked over Severus’ shoulder. “Thanks for bringing him in, Padfoot.”

“No problem, Chief,” Sirius replied. He sauntered inside and threw himself into a haphazard heap on the settee against the wall.

“Wonderful,” Severus said in a slow, monotonous tone. “Is it just the two of you, or is the entire motley crew here?”

“Just one more, I’m afraid,” said a familiar voice from the doorway. Severus suppressed a sigh as James Potter walked into the room.

Remus straightened his posture and gave a formal salute, while Sirius, still lounging on the furniture, touched his forehead in a lazy gesture. He threw in a saucy wink.

“At ease, gentlemen,” James said, amusement playing on his features. He turned to Severus. “Welcome to Afterlife.”

Severus blinked. “Afterlife?”

“Yes. Wait,” said James, confusion clouding his expression. “You _do_ know you’re dead, right?”

He scoffed. “I had assumed, considering my esteemed company.”

“Oh, good,” James replied in a cheerful tone. “Because _that_ would have been an awkward conversation.”

As James ambled over to the desk, Severus noticed his slate-grey attire, complete with an insignia of stylized wings on his shoulders. Remus and Sirius wore similar uniforms, though their patches were of different designs. He looked down and realized he was dressed in the same fashion.

James perched on the edge of the desk. “Would you like to sit down, Snape?” He motioned to the armchair in front of him, one Severus was quite sure wasn’t there a moment before.

“No. I’ll stand,” Severus snapped, “while you tell me what’s going on.”

“Very well,” said James. He picked up an onyx paperweight from the corner of Remus’ desk and began tossing it between his hands. “So, Afterlife is—” He frowned. “Well, it’s self-explanatory, isn’t it? It’s the place where you go _after_ life.” He looked over to Remus in exasperation. “I really need to get someone else to welcome the new arrivals,” he muttered.

“I see death hasn’t dulled your eloquence,” said Severus. Tension gripped the muscles of his shoulders and his fingers curled into his palms—a conditioned response whenever he was in the presence of a Potter. “Yes, I gathered all that from the _name_ and the _context clues_.” His eyes traversed the spartan office. “Forgive me if I’m a bit let down. I was expecting heavenly choirs and harp-playing angels, not the incessant ramblings of three idiots.”

“If you wanted to be serenaded, why didn’t you say so?” Sirius called from his seat. He flourished his arms, and a guitar appeared in his hands. “And, as for angels,” he said with a smirk, “well, you’re looking at them.”

“Really?” Severus asked in a bored tone.

“Yes,” said Remus. He gave James a pointed look, who responded with a shrug. “We’re— _all_ of us—angels. Including you.”

Aside from the slight angling of an eyebrow, Severus remained stoic at the revelation.

Remus continued. “Everyone gets processed in Afterlife, and they’re assigned a role within the organization.”

“There’s an entire chain of command in place here,” added James, “from the lowest ranks of angels all the way to The Boss.”

Remus waved an arm around the room. “We’re currently in the Guardianship and Protection Division. Sirius is a Guardian Angel; he’s assigned a Living to look after.” Remus gestured to their friend, who was busy tuning his guitar. Remus shook his head. “I just got promoted as an Archangel overseeing him and a few other Guardians, including you.”

“Swot.” Sirius looked up, the rakish grin on his face undercutting the remark.

“James here is a—”

“Prince!” Sirius jumped up and bent forward, waving his arms to the side in an elaborate bow.

James ignored him, saying blithely, “The Principality is a rank above the Archangels—” He pointed a thumb in Remus’ direction. “I’m pretty sure they only pushed me up the ranks because they were getting sick of me mucking about on the field for the past twenty-five years!”

As the three chuckled, Severus frowned. “Twenty-five years?” He raised his eyebrow at Remus. “When did you die?”

Remus stuffed his hands inside his pockets, his gaze dropping to the desk. “We died on the same day, at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“How have you already been promoted, while I’m just now finding out where we are?” asked Severus, a scowl digging into his countenance.

The three men shared an uncomfortable glance.

“Er, it’s because you’ve just been Thawed,” James answered in a hushed tone.

“You see,” Remus jumped in, walking around the desk to meet Severus’ stare, “when a person dies, their actions are weighed by those up in the chain of command. And, if you’ve done something particularly —”

“Terrible,” Sirius helped. “Monstrous.”

“— _unsavory,_ ” Remus interjected, shooting Sirius a dirty look, “the ‘higher ups’ put you in the Ice Box for the amount of time those actions warrant,” he said carefully.

“I see,” Severus growled.

“Don’t get me wrong, Severus,” said Remus. He clapped a hand on Severus’ shoulder. “We all know what you did to help during the war—the sacrifices you made.” He winced. “But, while you were spying on Voldemort, you still acted —”

“Like a fucking _Death Eater_ ,” spat Sirius.

Remus glared at his friend. “Are you actually going to be helpful _at all_ in this conversation?” He turned back to Severus, his lips twisted with a wry quirk. “But, yes, essentially. We know it was to maintain your cover, but some of your actions still fell under the ‘punishable’ category. So, you were put in the Ice Box for about seven years.”

Severus felt his lips pinch as he extrapolated information. “I take it that other—villainous types—are still in this Ice Box?”

“Oh, you mean ol’ Tommy Riddle?” jeered Sirius. “Oh, yeah, he’s _way_ in the back of the Ice Box. I bet you a millennium from now, The Boss is going to clean it out and find him still in there, and He’ll be like, ‘Oh, Me, I forgot I had one of these! I wonder if it’s expired?’”

Severus bowed his head, shoulders sagging in relief; at least he wouldn’t have to confront that bastard any time soon. When he lifted his eyes again, Remus was smiling at him, understanding evident in his light brown eyes.

“You’ve done your time,” Remus said softly. “You can put the past behind you now. Time to focus on the task at hand.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. Remus backed away and returned to the other side of the desk, sinking into his black leather seat with a sigh.

“Everyone at the GPD starts out as a Guardian Angel,” said James. He placed the paperweight back on the desk before he stood in front of Severus. Turning his palm up, two patches of wings appeared, identical to the ones on Sirius’ uniform. He placed the insignia on each of Severus’ shoulder. James stepped back, waving his arm in the air. In his place, a full-length mirror appeared.

The image in the reflection left Severus speechless. There he was, clad in the standard grey uniform—but it wasn’t _his_ face staring back.

At least, not the face that he was used to seeing in the mirror—craggy and wrinkled from years of living a double life. Years of projecting a toughened exterior in the day and lying awake in terror at night. Years of pining after a woman who was first claimed by the man in front of him and second, claimed by Death.

His skin no longer held the jagged notes of his past. The corners of his mouth weren’t dented with a permanent frown.

His eyes, though devoid of the crow’s feet that began to form in his late twenties, still held too much knowledge. Too much grief. His fingers went up to touch his face before he remembered he had company.

“Don’t worry, everyone has the same reaction,” murmured James. “It’s Death’s most ironic gift: eternal youth in the Afterlife.” James walked behind him and met his eyes in the reflection. Severus huffed and tore his gaze away. James chuckled. “Let’s go.”

Severus twitched the tail of an eyebrow as he straightened the button at his collar.

James headed to the door, motioning for Severus to follow. “You’re going to be assigned a Living to look after. We’ll take you down to orientation, and after that, you’ll get the dossier and Life Plan for your charge.”

“And who is this unfortunate person?” Severus asked.

Remus grinned. “Hermione Granger.” 

ooOOoo

Several hours later—if hours existed in this plane of existence—he was back in Remus’ office, looking over a thick file. It was only the two of them in the room this time. James dragged his feet and complained up to the last moment before taking his leave, moaning about having to ‘kiss arse’ up on the second floor. Sirius went with him, either to cheer him up or make fun of him, Severus didn’t know—it was always a toss-up when it came to that mutt.

“She’s fairly easy to Guard, for the most part,” said Remus, going over his charge of seven years. “I don’t know how much you remember of her, but she’s just as level-headed and clever as ever. You’ll find that you won’t have to worry about her physical safety very often.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Well, at least now that there’s no evil megalomaniac intent on genocide running about.”

“So, why can’t _you_ just keep her as your responsibility,” he sneered, “if she’s such an easy charge?”

Remus’ face scrunched. “When it comes to certain aspects of her life, she can be a bit,” he paused to consider the proper descriptor, “ _challenging_.”

Severus glared at him in silence.

“Well, take a look at her Life Plan.” Remus gestured to the file in his hands. “Career-wise, she’s way ahead of what the higher-ups have mapped out for her. But, in her personal life, she’s, uh, a bit _neglectful_.”

“I don’t understand,” said Severus, slamming the file shut. “If these supposed _divine beings_ have our lives planned for us, then what’s the point of a Guardian Angel? Doesn’t this,” he shook the binder in front of him, “indicate that everything is preordained? That we live out our lives in accordance to _this_?”

Remus shook his head. “It’s a bit of a misnomer, ‘Life Plan,’” He curled his fingers in the air to emphasize the quotation. “It’s really more of a _guideline_ that the higher-ups have created for each person—to maximize their potential for good works and personal happiness. But, it’s not something that one necessarily needs to follow,” he said, leaning forward in his seat and planting his elbows on the desk. “Our charges have a _choice_. We just try to guide them to ensure the best possible outcome for them using the Life Plan. You can do that by planting seeds of ideas in your charge’s head, but that doesn’t always work.” A lopsided grin grew on his face. “Hermione is particularly resistant to suggestion.”

“I see,” Severus murmured. He opened the cover again and scanned the first page of the file: a detailed summary —no doubt Remus’ work—on Hermione’s physical, mental, and emotional well-being, as well as notes on her personality and major highlights of her life. It seemed as if Remus’ assessment of her vocational drive had been correct. At twenty-five, Hermione had been promoted to a high position at the Ministry, albeit at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

In the ‘Relationships’ column, however, there remained a desolate, blank space. Curious, he turned to the section marked, ‘Romantic Entanglements.’ According to the Life Plan, Hermione should have already been on Item 23: Content in a Stable Relationship.

Severus grimaced.

Remus, who had been watching him carefully, snickered under his breath. “I see you’ve come to a realization of your primary objective for our Miss Granger,” he said.

Severus snapped the file closed and threw it on Remus’ desk. “I’d rather be put back in the Ice Box,” he snarled, “than spend any portion of my afterlife playing _cupid_ for Hermione Granger!”

Remus returned his fury with a wide smile.

ooOOoo

His rage was all for naught. He was assigned this duty, and there was absolutely no way he could get out of being a Guardian Angel.

“You don’t _have_ to follow the plan, you know,” reminded Sirius, who was being uncharacteristically helpful. “Some of those Life Plans are plain shite. Those Beings upstairs have been dead for so long, they don’t remember what it’s like to be human.”

The two of them sat in the Observation Chamber, another misleading term. It was less of a chamber like the Hogwarts dungeons, and more of the open-floor plan of the Auror Department, complete with assigned booths. He glanced around his cubicle, equipped only with a display screen, a desk, and a comfortable chair. The screen gave Severus a bird’s eye view of Hermione as she went about her normal business. It had the capability of zooming in all the way to the very molecules that compromised her body, but he didn’t have the inclination—nor the interest—to examine her that close. Besides, there was something about her being a former student—despite that she had been an adult for several years now—that made him inherently cringe at the feeling of being a voyeur.

His cubicle was adjacent to the one Sirius occupied. For the past hour, he had been treated to his unwelcome neighbor’s unprompted remarks on the life of a Guardian. He heaved a loaded sigh as he closed his eyes, trying to tune out the yapping. It was ineffective.

“You should just do what I do,” Sirius continued, unaware of Severus’ annoyance—or, more likely, completely aware and relishing in it, regardless. “I try to make sure my charges have a lot of fun. I mean, it’s all well and good to have a cushy job and a lot of sproglets, but if you’re not having fun, you’re not really living, you know? So, I say, fuck the Life Plan.”

Severus grunted. “Now I know why you’ve been a Guardian for so long when Lupin—who died two years _after_ you, if you recall—is already your supervisor.”

Sirius released a loud scoff. “As if I’d want to climb the corporate ladder in this place. The higher up you go, the less time you get to spend out in the field.”

He frowned, recalling his orientation. “We’re not supposed to be down very often.”

“Pshhh,” Sirius responded, waving a casual hand. “I mean, yes, I guess, _technically_ , but how are we supposed to take care of our Living from up here?” He rolled his seat past the divider and into Severus’ booth. “Like last night,” he continued in a hushed tone, “when my charge was about to pass up an opportunity to get inked, I went down there and worked my magic to convince him to go inside and get a sleeve done. I know it just _seems_ like a tattoo, but it’s a life-changing one, not to mention it makes him look a lot edgier.” A proud grin grazed Sirius’ face. “I’ve been working really hard to give my charge a better aesthetic.”

Severus cradled his temple in one hand. “You should be reported for abuse. Who is the poor bastard who got you as their Guardian? And what did he do to deserve such a fate?”

“To answer your second question: He was bloody brilliant during the War. Even got rid of one of Tommy’s Horcruxes. That’s why he was assigned such an _amazing_ Guardian. As for your first question,” he said as mischief twinkled in his grey eyes, “Neville Longbottom.” 

Severus shook his head. “You’re going to ruin that boy’s life.”

“What are you talking about?” Sirius nearly yelled, laying an affronted hand over his chest. “Because of _me_ , he’s dropped that stuffy Herbology position, bought himself a vintage Harley and has been riding all over the continent! Free as a bird, meeting _lots_ of _birds_ ,” he turned his head and gave Severus a significant look, “and doesn’t give a flying fuck what Granny Augusta thinks. And, now, he’s got a whole sleeve tatt of a lion shitting on the Dark Mark! Sounds like I really turned his life around, if you ask me.”

Severus groaned under his breath.

“Well, it sure has been more than what you’ve done for _your_ charge,” Sirius complained. “You’ve been sitting here, day in and day out for the past month, but I don’t think you’ve even paid attention to what she’s doing.” He leaned forward in his seat to catch a glimpse at Severus’ screen. “You’re zoomed out practically to the stratosphere!” He stood up to peer closer. “Do you even know which dot Hermione is? And you’ve even got her on mute!”

“I can see her just fine,” Severus said through gritted teeth. “I’m zoomed out so that I can see any incoming dangers,” he reasoned. He didn’t add that he didn’t care to see anything else of Hermione Granger other than the top of her bushy hair. “I’ve got her on mute because…well, you _have_ heard her speak, have you not?” he asked drily.

“What’s wrong with how she speaks?” At Severus’ stoic stare, understanding came over Sirius’ face. “Ah, you mean how she was always correcting people or nagging the boys? Remus said she’s gotten a lot better at that over the last few years!”

Severus scoffed in disbelief.

“Still a bit of a swot, though, I’ll give you that,” Sirius added.

Tired of Sirius’ meddling, Severus glowered at him, emotionless and unblinking and willing the intruder to leave the cubicle. Sirius stared back at him. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, Sirius backed out of the cubicle with an indecipherable mutter.

When the man was back in his own space, Severus turned his attention to the screen once more. After a few minutes, his curiosity got the better of him.

He glanced over the divider. Sirius was slumped over his desk, rifling through Neville’s Life Plan—no doubt trying to figure how else to muck it up—as Neville went about his day on the screen. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be found out, Severus leaned closer to his own screen and waved his fingers to zoom in until he could see Hermione’s face.

It was the same face he had seen in his classroom and across the Great Hall, only a grown-up version. Eyes that were large, brown, and heavily lashed, like a cow’s.  A slightly upturned nose spattered with brown freckles, some of which grazed the border of her top lip. He couldn’t make out the shape of those lips, as she was talking rapidly. He was about to turn on the sound when he noticed that she was speaking to Ginny Weasley.

He snapped his hand back to his side. Sirius was right. In every memory of her, she was always nagging or lecturing. Just the thought of it exhausted him, and the mutt had already used up his supply of patience for the day.

Severus kept her on mute, wondering what dull and wearisome topic she was rambling about now.

ooOOoo

“It has five speed settings.  _Ten_  different modes. Best part? It doesn’t raid my refrigerator afterwards or ask to stay the night. We’re very happy together.”

“Sweetie,” Ginny said, sounding exasperated. “You can’t actually have a relationship with your vibrator.” She sat across the small metal table, her nose wrinkled in discomfort.

Hermione couldn’t tell if it was the topic itself or that they were outside of the café, where pedestrians could catch snippets of their conversation. It was likely the latter. She was, after all, a famous Quidditch star now and a role model for little girls everywhere. She probably didn’t want to get overheard by passers-by as they loudly discussed sex toys.

“Why not?” Hermione took a sip of her tea. “I have just as much emotional connection with my vibrator as I did with any of my boyfriends, so it’s basically the same thing.” She shrugged. “Except, now I have orgasms.”

Ginny’s grimace deepened, and Hermione belatedly remembered that one of those ex-boyfriends was Ginny’s brother. “Sorry,” she mouthed to her redheaded friend.

Ginny cleared her throat. “I just think you need to start putting yourself out there again,” she said. “It’s been over two years since you’ve been on a date, let alone a serious relationship.”

Hermione shook her head as her eyes wandered to the space above her companion’s head. “Can’t. Too busy. Work.”

“What is it you always tell me about priorities?” Ginny prodded.

“That everyone has their own and shouldn’t have to change them to conform to societal norms?” Hermione asked, pasting a bright, sarcasm-ladled smile on her face.

Ginny tapped Hermione’s wrist playfully. “No,” she said, mimicking a stern gaze that could rival Professor McGonagall’s decades-hewn expression. “That if it’s important to you, then you carve time out of your schedule, no matter what else is going on in your life.”

“Well, there you go,” she said. “Must not be that important to me. At least, not as important as work. And food. Sleep. Billy Zane.”

“Billy Zane?”

“It’s what I call my vibrator.”

Ginny planted her elbows on the table and cradled her chin on the heels of her palms. If they weren’t in a public place, Hermione was sure she would have groaned in frustration. 

She could no longer contain her laughter at her friend’s red face, and she burst out laughing. “All right, Ginny,” she said, as she tried to catch her breath. “What is this _really_ about? Why is my love life—or lack thereof, as it happens—such a point of interest today?”

Ginny stared at her a moment longer, chewing nervously on her top lip. She laid her left hand on the table and flicked her wand over her ring finger, releasing a Disillusionment charm. 

Admittedly, Hermione didn’t know much about engagement rings—it was her special form of rebellion against society, actively refusing to learn about rings and wedding planning and courting customs—so she didn’t know how many carats of diamond it had, nor could she even name the shape it was cut into. She could permit, though, that it was very shiny and pretty. And _big_.

“What do you think?” Ginny asked, her voice pitched with an uncharacteristic wobble.

“Wow,” Hermione said, unable to tear her gaze from the piece of jewelry. “I mean, that’s—that’s _wonderful_ , Gin! I’m so happy for you!” She got up and enveloped her friend in a tight hug. When they pulled apart, she grabbed Ginny’s hand and held the ring up to her face. “And, look at this stone! If we had this during the war, we could have kept all those Dementors away from the shine alone.”

Ginny laughed as she, too, gazed at the ring in her hand. Looking a bit dazed, she said, “I know. She really outdid herself, didn’t she?”

“Not at all, love.” Hermione gave her friend’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “You deserve this stunning ring.”

“Is it terrible that I was kind of expecting a ring made of snail shells or turnip tops or something of the sort?” Ginny said with a soft giggle.

“I’m sure you would have worn those beautifully, too,” she said. “Although Luna did a brilliant job picking _this_ one out. You know what each other likes. One of the many reasons why you’re perfect together.”

Ginny’s smile faltered. “That’s why I’m concerned about  _your_  love life,” she said, and the teasing smile came back. “Or _lack thereof_. I’m— _we_  are so happy together. I just want to make sure you get  _your_  chance at happiness, too.”

Hermione placed a gentle hand on Ginny’s arm. “Listen to me, Ginny Weasley,” she said. “I  _am_  happy. I love my work. I love the time I get to spend with my family and my best friends.”

Ginny gave her a wry smile. “And Billy Zane?”

“And I am absolutely  _enamored_  with Billy Zane,” she said and further clarified, “Both the actor _and_ the vibrator.”

 ooOOoo

Severus flipped through the pages of Hermione’s Life Plan, noting the headings of each section. He skipped through the parts regarding her Career Paths—she seemed to have a good handle on that aspect of her life—and opened the page to the section titled, “List of Suitable Partners.”

He glanced through the surprisingly short list of names. According to the Powers That Be, Hermione was best suited for Harry Potter, which made him roll his eyes; Draco Malfoy, which made him quirk an eyebrow in surprise; and Charlie Weasley, which made his lips curl up in a grimace. 

He peered closer at the margin of the page, noticing some notes Remus left in his neat script. A thin line connected between Draco’s and Harry’s names and in a small, tidy cursive was the word, ‘Married.’ 

Confused, he looked behind him to see if there was anyone in the vicinity before turning to the screen. After a minute, he found Draco in the kitchen of what looked to be Malfoy Manor…and, yes, there was Potter, cooking something on the stove, wearing nothing but a goofy smile as Draco sat on the counter and talked animatedly.

Severus grimaced at the tableau. On the one hand, he was happy for his godson. To see a smile on Draco’s face—one that didn’t serve as a mask to hide fear and uncertainty—was truly something he had longed for the young man.

On the other hand, that he had found happiness with the son of his most hated rival—a fact which, well into Severus’ afterlife, still felt to be true—stung. He had thought Draco would have better taste than that.

With two of the options out of the running, his gaze shifted to the third name: Charlie Weasley.

To be fair, he wasn’t the worst of the Weasley offspring—not that it was easy to pin down any of the Weasleys as the worst, as they all had qualities that made each one uniquely terrible.

He thought back to when he had Charlie Weasley in his class. He was a brash young man with a temper as hot as the flames that he likely dodged daily. He was brave, though, and tenacious—clever, too. A good enough match for Hermione Granger, and it was as close as Severus could come to caring.

He aimed for what Remus had accomplished in a short time; he needed to do a good job so that he could get promoted up the chain, thus freeing himself of his Living. Getting away from Sirius Black was just a bonus.

Severus looked up Charlie Weasley’s Guardian on the system, and the grimace on his face deepened further.

ooOOoo

“Well, if it isn’t Snape,” she said, an impish smile playing on her lips. “Severus Snape.”

His spine stiffened. “Nymphadora.”

She scrunched her nose. “It’s _Tonks_.”

“Really?” he said flatly. “Last I heard, it was _Lupin_.”

Tonks shrugged. “I kept my last name. It’s hardly scandalous.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “I pass no judgment. I would have kept my last name, too.”

“Aw, you’ve thought taking on the name ‘Lupin’ before?” she squealed.

He sighed as a wave of laughter came over her. He stood as still as a statue until she was done.

“Oh, all right, sourpuss,” Tonks said, sitting up in her seat. “What is it?”

“I need your…help.”

Her smile grew wide as she leaned back in her swiveling chair. “I see,” she said, placing her elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled in front of her. “Wait, let me just savor this moment.” She closed her eyes. He opened his mouth to argue. With her eyes still shut, she threw up a pointer finger to silence him. She took a deep breath and released a satisfied-sounding sigh before opening her eyes.

Severus grunted. “Are you quite done?”

“All right,” Tonks jeered. “What do you need, _Sev_?”

He glowered at her for the impertinent nickname. “I understand that you’re the Guardian for Charlie Weasley.”

“Oh, yes! I’m looking after the ol’ ex-boyfriend.” She winked saucily and said in a mock-whisper, “Don’t worry, Remus knows.”

He ignored her comment. “Is Charlie Weasley in a relationship?”

She blinked. “What’s it to you?” she asked, pinning him down with a suspicious look.

“It just so happens that he’s on the List of Suitable Partners for my charge.” Severus squared his shoulders. “I’ll need his services so that I can fulfill the requirements for my charge’s Life Plan. ”

“You ‘ _need his services_?’” she asked, eyes widening in amazement. “I’m not his pimp, Sev.”

He dismissed her with a careless wave of a hand. “Regardless, I require his romantic attentions to my charge.”

She snorted. “Good luck. I’ve been trying to set the man up, but he keeps choosing the ‘one-off’ options. I can’t find a nice girl with enough patience to deal with him!”

“My charge has a lifetime of experience in dealing with short-sighted, temperamental idiots.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Really? Who?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Oh, that’s right! You’ve got Remus’ Living! I’ve always wanted to pair her up with Charlie, but Remus was too busy helping her with her career.” A grin flashed on her face. “Hermione Granger, huh? This should be fun.”

ooOOoo

It was a bit too warm at the Burrow from all the bodies packed inside the eat-in kitchen, but nobody seemed to mind. Between the happy news of the couple’s engagement and Molly’s famous Cornish pasties, spirits were high.

Spying the last pasty on the counter, Hermione hurried over to grab it. As she reached for that crispy golden pocket, she caught a movement at the corner of her eye. She turned to look but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Her hand, still stretched out toward the last Cornish pasty, accidentally grazed someone’s knuckles. She jumped away, yelping in surprise.

“Oh!” She looked up and was met with Charlie Weasley’s gem blue eyes. “Sorry, Charlie! Didn’t see you!”

He gave her a crooked grin. “’S’alright, Hermione,” he said. He picked up the pasty and offered it to her. “Here. It’s yours.”

She waved her palms out in surrender. “No, no! You take it. I’m sure you miss your mum’s cooking whenever you’re in Romania. I can just easily pop in anytime to get Molly’s home cooked meals.” She felt herself flush as she admitted, “Actually, that’s what I do at least once a week since I don’t have time to cook. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m taking too much advantage of being an honorary Weasley.”

“Mum doesn’t mind, I’m sure,” he said, waving her concerns away. “With everyone out of the house, it drives her bonkers not to have anyone to fuss over. It’s good of you to keep her company.” He popped the entire pasty in his mouth. 

ooOOoo

They stood against the wall in the kitchen. Unnecessary, considering that they would have been in no one’s way; people could just walk through them. His partner, however, claimed to hate the idea of someone passing through her body, especially those she knew in her old life.

“See?” She gestured to their charges, conversing quietly by the kitchen counter. “Easy. Now that they’re talking—and he’s not distracted by hunger pangs—Charlie will turn on his foolproof, dragon tamer’s charm. Trust me, by this time next year, we’ll have front-row seats to their wedding!” A satisfied grin bloomed on her face.

“Is that right?” Severus nudged his chin toward the would-be Lothario, who was now wandering off to the kitchen table presumably to hunt for more food. Hermione was left standing at the counter, gazing at the red platter, now empty of Cornish pasties, and looking forlorn.

“What the—where is he goi—ergh!” Tonks stomped over to where Charlie hovered over the spread, grabbing a large helping of mincemeat pie. “Oy! _Idiot_!” She stood directly in front of him, her body dissected by the wooden table, and waved her arms in front of his face. “Go back over there and charm her shirt off, you great, big prat!”

Charlie paused and seemed to gaze at Tonks, a perplexed look overcoming his features. Then he reached through her torso to grab a biscuit from a tall stack in the middle of the table.

As Tonks skulked back to where he waited, Severus raised an eyebrow. “Should I send my R.S.V.P. to their wedding, then?”

Tonks threw him a withering glare. “So, we might have to work a bit harder than I thought,” she said, grinding her teeth in frustration. “But, we’ll get them down that aisle, even if it kills me.” She blinked, then added, “Again.”

ooOOoo

It was the strangest thing: she had run into Charlie every day for the past week. When she went to the market early on Sunday morning, there he was, wandering the stalls, apparently with a sudden craving for fresh chevre. On Monday evening, they ran into each other at Flourish and Blott’s. Tuesday night, she went to the Leaky Cauldron for fish and chips and ended up sitting next to him as he finished off a pint. Wednesday was Gringotts, and Thursday, Grimmauld Place. Friday, when she dropped in on Molly to say hello—and to grab some home-cooked takeout—Charlie was still there.

“I’ve taken a leave from the reserve,” Charlie explained. He sat with her at the kitchen table as she snacked on oven-warm biscuits. Molly bustled around the kitchen, eagerly packing food for her to take home.

“Are the dragons boring you?” Hermione teased.

He shook his head. “When I came home for Ginny’s announcement, I had this sudden realization that I hadn’t taken a holiday in two years! So I Owled my boss the next day and told her I’d be extending my stay.”

Molly interrupted, declaring that she’ll be out in the garden to pick out fresh vegetables for Hermione.

“That’s great to hear,” she said to Charlie as Molly left through the back door. “Sometimes, I wish I could take a vacation from work, but there’s simply too much to do.”

“Why don’t you?” he asked. His face brightened as if he had a brilliant idea. “I’m thinking about going to Italy for a week. Why don’t you take some time off work and join me?”

Heat crawled up to her cheeks at his suggestion. “Oh, I don’t know if I can do that,” she stammered. “Hard to ask for vacation time. Bureaucracy, you know?”

“All right.” He shrugged. “How about just dinner, then?”

Her jaw slackened in shock. “Dinner? Just the two of us?”

“Yeah,” he said. A puzzled look came over his face as he leaned over. “Have you noticed that we’ve been running into each other since Ginny’s get-together?”

She nodded.

Charlie gave her a lopsided smile. “This might sound a bit off, but I figured, as small as Wizarding England is, it’s not  _that_  small. It’s bizarre to run into you so often. Almost as if the universe has been throwing us into each other’s paths.” He shrugged. “So why don’t we give it a break and go on a date?” 

ooOOoo

Hermione Floo’d into her cozy Hogsmeade cottage, arms laden with meals charmed to stay fresh for a week. As she put her loot away, she considered Charlie’s request. 

On the one hand, it was…well, it was Charlie Weasley. Her best friend-slash-ex’s older brother. While her romantic relationship with Ron was short-lived, it still took them a long time to get back to the stable foundation of their friendship. If she dated his brother…well, that was sure to make for all kinds of awkwardness between them, wouldn’t it?

As she entered her bedroom and fussed with her nightgown, she considered the alternative. It was…well, it was  _Charlie Weasley_.  As a teenage girl, she was struck with puppy love the first time she met him. But she was no longer a teenager, and it had been a long time since she even thought about Charlie in such a way.

Her mind was still going ‘round in circles as she laid in bed. Her muscles felt tense, unable to relax from the stress.

With a sigh, she sat up and reached for the drawer of her nightstand.

ooOOoo

Severus had been growing frustrated with the witch. 

After all the effort he and Tonks had put in over the past week—mostly Tonks, as Charlie Weasley had been more susceptible to suggestion than his own charge—it had been extremely irritating to watch Hermione wander mindlessly about her house, pattering and arguing with herself about the merits and drawbacks of going out on a date. 

It was incredibly vexing. He glowered at her form in the dark bedroom when she suddenly sat up and rummaged through the drawer of her bedside table. Hermione pulled out a pink, cone-shaped Muggle device. Its shape was familiar, and it took Severus a minute to remember the name of it. He believed it was called a  _microphone_ , although its exact purpose escaped him at the moment.

Wanting to take advantage of this way to communicate with Hermione, Severus directed his voice to the microphone and said, “Yes. Do it.”

When she screeched and threw the item across the room, he knew his guess was wrong, and he was grateful no one else had been around to witness his blunder.

Hermione, now alert, had her wand clutched in her hand, pointing at the innocent-looking microphone on the floor. She approached it cautiously and threw out several spells to scan for Horcruxes, curses, and other forms of Dark magic. He felt a twinge of admiration that she knew so many variations of the spells that took him many years to master.

She aimed her wand, and the crease between her eyebrows told him that she was about to cast a spell to obliterate the innocuous device. At the last moment, however, her expression shifted to one of curiosity. She floated the item back into the drawer, locking it inside with a few Auror-grade spells she must have learned from Potter.

Grabbing the blanket and a pillow from the bed, she hurried to the living room and settled on the couch, facing her bedroom door. Her wand remained in her grip as she went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos are appreciated :)
> 
> Part 2 will be up next week!
> 
> Prompt: Snape finds the Afterlife is not quite what he expects. It's not all harps and rainbows. Being made a Guardian Angel and responsible for the health and happiness of a certain Miss Know-It-All does nothing to improve his disposition. Against all the rules, he feels a definite attraction towards his charge.  
> By jaxomsride.


	2. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are owned by JK Rowling.
> 
> A/N: Many thanks to my lovely beta Lucefray27!

The following afternoon, she quite literally bumped into Charlie Weasley at the Ministry.

“ _Oomph_!” Rolls of parchment tumbled to the ground as her feet shuffled, fighting for balance. Charlie’s large hands wrapped around her upper arms, steadying her.

“All right?” he asked. With their proximity, the flecks of silver in his blue eyes were more prominent.

Her head bounced up and down as she braced herself against the firm mounds of his _impressive_ biceps. His grip loosened, and Hermione sighed, finding it easier to control her diaphragm when she stepped out of his hold.

She bent down to pick up the documents, asking, “What are you doing here?”—although, at this point, she was unsurprised that they had once again crossed each other’s paths.  
  
"I came by to have lunch with Ron," he replied. “Funny, I didn’t think I’d see you at the Ministry today since it’s a Saturday.” He knelt to help her gather the stray parchments that had rolled away.

Hermione snorted. “Well, I _would_ be home right now if it wasn’t for that bloody, frightening—” She stopped herself before the words ‘talking vibrator’ left her lips. “— _erm_ , expense report,” she mumbled.

Charlie’s eyebrows lifted. “’Frightening expense report?’”

She gulped. “If you saw how much our department spends on rubber gloves, you’d find it ghastly, too.”

His expression twisted into a grimace. “Do I want to know why you need so many rubber gloves?”

“You really don’t,” she insisted.

“Fair enough,” Charlie said as he grabbed the last roll.

When the parchments were once again stacked in her arms, Charlie laid a secure hand under her elbow and helped her up.

They stared at each other, and she had no idea what else to say. As she balanced her papers, her left foot crossed behind her right one. His hand went up and rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled dryly.

“So—” They said simultaneously. Awkward laughter filled the space between them as they gestured for the other to go on.

“Uh—I should probably—” she stammered, pointing down the hall towards the Records Office.

“Yeah, sure—” Charlie stepped to the side to let her pass.  
  
As she headed down the hallway, Hermione hesitated a moment before she came to a stop.

Last night was strange. _Preposterous_. She double- and triple-checked the vibrator with the strongest detection spells she knew but found nothing out of the ordinary. In the judgment of the morning light, there was only one reason why she would imagine a voice to emanate from her vibrator: perhaps she _was_ getting too attached to Billy Zane.

Ginny’s words reverberated through her mind, and she decided to heed her good advice. Hermione needed to interact with _real_ men, and here one was—a handsome one, at that, and conveniently in her vicinity.

"Erm…Charlie?" she called after him as she pivoted on her heels. "Speaking of meals, I thought about dinner…What I mean to say is—” she sputtered, “—are you still available to have dinner with me sometime?"  
  
He answered her with a sunny smile.

ooOOoo

“A date?” Remus asked, a frown marring his expression. He shuffled through the pages of Severus’ report again.

“A date,” Severus confirmed. He pressed his lips together in a smug grin.

Remus glanced through the summary; he snorted. “With _Charlie Weasley_?”

Severus challenged him with an arch of an eyebrow. “Yes.”

As he leaned back in his leather seat, Remus folded his arms across his chest. “What’s your endgame?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you blathering on about now?” asked Severus with a scoff.

“Why have you been trying to get Hermione on a date with Charlie Weasley?”

“Have you gone daft?” he sneered. “I’m merely following your instructions to ensure a romantic partner for Hermione Granger.”

“Yes, but… _Charlie Weasley_?” Remus grimaced.

“That’s what the _Life Plan_ suggested,” Severus said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t like it, take your issue up with the Powers. None of this was my idea.” He tilted forward in his seat. “May I also point out that _your wife_ has been helping me in this endeavor? If you’re making a list of people to bother with your complaints, I should be further down the list.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you before, that blasted Life Plan is just a guideline. You shouldn’t follow it to the letter. And, Dora,” he sighed, “is almost as bad as Sirius when it comes to her charge.” His eyes darted up to the door, guilt washing over his expression. “Erm—don’t tell her I said that,” he mumbled.

“I’ll try not to let it slip,” Severus deadpanned.

“Uh—thanks,” Remus folded his hands on his desk and fixed him with an analyzing gaze. “I’m not trying to micromanage you,” he said, “but I _am_ worried about the consequences of the two of them dating. Have you thought about how this might affect her other relationships?”

Severus met his calculating look with a stony stare.

“How dating Charlie Weasley may affect her friendship with Ron?” At Severus’ stoic expression, Remus prodded, “You know—her _ex-slash-best friend_? Charlie Weasley’s _brother_?”

“I am aware,” Severus replied stiffly. “I’ve yet to see a problem.”

“Right,” Remus muttered, the corners of his lips turning down. “Because _you_ , of all people, wouldn’t understand such a thing as _jealousy_.”

Severus’ chair scraped back as he swiftly stood up and stomped to the door.

“Wait!” Remus hurried after him, catching the crook of Severus’ elbow before he could leave the office. “Wait! I apologize. That was over the line.”

With a sneer on his lips, Severus glowered at the contrite man.

“Just—be _careful_ , Snape,” warned Remus. “Hermione’s a strong person. I’m confident she can handle any awkward situations that may come up from this, but—” he hesitated, “—getting her friendship with Ron back on stable ground was a hard-fought battle. I’d hate to see this be a point of contention between them.”

Severus huffed as he wrenched his arm out of Remus’ grasp and strode out of the room.

ooOOoo

“You know,” Ginny said, “I’m not sure how I feel about helping you shop for a sexy dress to impress my brother.” Her voice was muffled by the curtains that separated them.

“That’s not what you’re here for.” Hermione struggled to lift the red dress over her head. “You’re here to prevent a murder.”

“Oh?” said Ginny.

“Someone’s about to be strangled by a cocktail dress,” Hermione pronounced.

The curtain whipped aside, revealing a tall, blond man in a bespoke, forest green suit.

Hermione screamed. “Malfoy!” With the red dress bunched around her neck—she was pretty sure her hair was stuck in the zipper—she slapped her hands over her chest and crotch. “ _Bloody hell_!”

“First of all,” Draco said as he sauntered inside the dressing room, eyeing the outfit she had been trying on with distaste, “I’d never get caught dead in anything so cheap.”

He thrust more dresses into her arms. As Ginny stepped inside and slid the curtain closed, Hermione gave up on covering her bra and panties with her palms.

“Second,” he continued, “it’s _not my fault_ that you don’t like anything in this store—I told you, we should have gone to the shop across the street from Gringotts’—”

“I’m not keen to spend a month’s salary on _one_ dress!” She dropped the bundle of clothes on the bench and pulled the red dress over her face. As suspected, a lock of hair had stuck to the zipper. “It’s just a date, anyway.”

Draco tugged the material out of her hands and worked to untangle the mess. “Well, you’re never going to find anything here, even if it _is_ ‘the right price,’” he said, testing the phrase as if it was the first time he’d said those words in that order. “Not with _your_ attitude, anyway.” Draco met her eyes in their reflection, squinting in accusation. “Do you even _want_ to go on this date?”

Her eyes sidled to Ginny, who was leaning against the doorframe and holding the curtain closed. Hermione gave her a tight smile. “Of course.”

Draco scoffed. “The things I do for Potter,” he muttered as he jerked her tangled curls from the zipper’s metal teeth.

“I didn’t— _ow!_ —ask you to be here!” Hermione winced at Draco’s rough assistance.

“I need to make sure you don’t fuck this up, Granger.” With a final tug, he freed her hair and handed her the offending dress. “We need a fourth for our Thursday dinners. I’m tired of it just being the three of us. The dynamic’s all wrong.”

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.” She shrugged as she faced him.

“ _You’re_ not the third wheel,” Draco whinged. “ _I’m_ the third wheel. For Merlin’s sake, do you know how _boring_ it is to have dinner with you and Potter with all your shop talk and reminiscing? If I have to hear about ‘that time in the Forest of Dean,’ or ‘do you remember when we rode that dragon or thestral or whatever other magical creature,’” he mocked, “I swear to the Founders, I will invite Grawp to dinner so I can have some decent conversation.”

Hermione chortled.

“I mean it, Granger.” Draco picked through the pile of dresses on the bench and handed her a black garment with a short skirt. “Don’t fuck this up. You _need_ to bring someone for me to talk to during our dinners.”

“Really? Even if it’s Charlie?”

Draco waved his hand. “He’s the least annoying Weasley—”

“Hey!” Ginny yelled.

“—Present company excluded, of course.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s also got the nicest bum,” he murmured.

“Doesn’t he just?” Hermione agreed.

“Still here!” Ginny called.

“Present company excluded,” Hermione said with a wink at her best girlfriend.

“ _That’s_ more like it!”

Draco sighed as he examined Hermione’s reflection once again. “Well, let’s get you looking your best, then.” His gaze flickered down; his frown deepened. “We also need to get you some lingerie.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “It’s not like Charlie’s going to be seeing me in my knickers anytime soon!” she hissed.

“It’s not for Weasley.” He glanced down again. “Your arse says Tuesday.”

She shrugged.

“It’s _Friday_.”

“They were clean when I put them on this morning!” she insisted.

“Still, you’re a grown woman with a high position in the Ministry,” he said, shaking his head in dismay. “Your arse shouldn’t be doubling as a day planner.”

ooOOoo

When Severus arrived at Tonks’ work booth, he was greeted with an unwelcome sight.

“Are you here for the program?” Sirius asked. His feet were propped up on the desk, a bowl of popcorn on his lap.

Beside him, Tonks lounged in similar fashion. She conjured a chair and waved Severus over. “Come in! Date night’s about to start!”

His lips curled in disgust. “I’m not here to watch,” he sneered. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be at the dinner?” he asked Tonks.

Her eyebrows knit together. “Why?”

“To make sure your charge remembers how to chew with his mouth closed.”

Tonks parted her lips, but then a thoughtful expression came over her face. She faced Sirius. “Actually, it _would_ be better if I watched from the sidelines on this one.” She turned back to Severus. “But _not_ because he doesn’t know to be civilized. I just want to make sure things don’t get mucked up.”

“Aw, but make sure it’s still entertaining!” Sirius said through a mouthful a popcorn. Tonks threw him a wink.

“Are you coming?” she asked Severus.

He shook his head. “I have the utmost confidence in my charge’s table manners. I’m quite sure I won’t be needed.”

“Suit yourself,” she muttered. In a blink, she was gone.

The crunch of popcorn filled the silence.

“Are you truly going to sit here and watch their date?” Severus asked.

“Nothing else to do. Neville’s decided to visit his grandmother,” Sirius complained. “There’s _no way_ I want to be staring at that old crone’s face all night!”

“Pathetic,” Severus muttered as he swept out of the cubicle.

ooOOoo

Tea candles floated inches from the white linen tablecloth. Servers milled about, speaking in hushed tones as they recited tonight’s specialty menu and took orders. There was nary a clink nor a scrape of utensils against the fine china—not in _this_ posh establishment, where guests and employees alike were on their best behavior.

Her hands smoothed over the cloth napkin on her lap. Across the round table, Charlie shifted in his seat. He twisted and turned his neck as he adjusted the knot of his tie once again.

“All right?” Hermione asked.

He glanced up and gave her a taut grin. “Yeah, just—just not used to _this_.” He waved his fingers over his outfit. He was dressed in shades of blue—a light blue button-up with a stiff collar under a smart navy jacket, accented with a blue paisley tie. It was an overall pleasing combination that brought out his captivating eyes.

“You look great,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He returned it with a rakish grin. “So do you.”

Her cheeks burned—both from the compliment and from the way his eyes briefly grazed down her neck and over her exposed shoulders.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

With another grin, Charlie glanced down at the menu. Hermione fought the urge to use the heavy-stock paper in her hand to fan herself.

ooOOoo

Without his bothersome office-neighbor around, Severus used the blessed silence to catch up on Potions journals. There were several advances in the field while he had been in the Icebox. Although he no longer had any use for such knowledge, old habits were hard to break—even after death.

Amid reading through a study on medicinal applications of lizard hearts, he felt a flutter of his own.

He glowered at the journal on the desk as the light, flitting sensation turned painful, squeezing and pulling at the center of his chest.

“Hermione,” he grunted as an invisible hand gripped his heart. He had to get to Hermione Granger—that much he knew, even without word or comprehension.

He closed his eyes and pictured her face. In the next moment, he was standing next to her, and the agony in his chest disappeared.

Despite being more hands-off with his charge than other Guardians, Severus had observed Hermione often enough that he had quickly become fluent in her nonverbal cues. The way her stiff shoulders hovered near her ears and the rigid set of her lips informed him that she was agitated—perhaps even angry or upset. The shallow angle of her eyebrows as they knit together advertised that she was deep in contemplation—there was a question in her eyes, as well hard determination; she looked to be on a mission.

Her wand was tight in her grip, and she flicked and waved it with sharp movements. When her locking spells dissipated, she yanked on the brass handle and slid the drawer completely out. She set the drawer on her bed, hesitating for only a moment before reaching in for the pink microphone.

  
She perched on the edge of the mattress, smoothing the skirt of her sensible navy dress with one hand while the other cradled the microphone in front of her face.  
  
"Erm—Billy?" she whispered. "Are—are you there?" She took a deep breath and then held it closer, tilting her ear toward the object in her hand.  
  
Severus pondered. Direct contact with his Living charge was against the rules; it said so on page 31 of the Life Plan.

Then again, how many times had Remus informed him that the Life Plan should be treated more as a guideline rather than a rulebook? Severus smothered a triumphant laugh at the prospect of using Remus’ words against him.  
  
"Yes," Severus projected through the object. "I'm here. What do you want?" Hermione froze, her eyes widening—and he realized that she wasn't truly expecting a response. He sighed as he clutched his temples. "Well?” he continued, deciding he should just follow through on this ridiculous endeavor. “I don't have all day."  
  
The comment snapped Hermione out of her stupor. "My apologies," she said acerbically. "I didn't realize I'm keeping you from an important appointment in my nightstand. Do you have a dinner date with my box of condoms?”  
  
" _You_  are the one who took  _me_  out of the drawer. You’re the one who talked to me first," he said, "so, I'm assuming you have something to say. Out with it."

Her breaths came in quick, shallow pants. Her eyes brightened as curiosity surpassed any other emotion on her face. "I have  _so_ many questions I need to ask you!" she blustered.  
  
"And I'll answer _one_ of them.”  
  
“But—but—” she sputtered. "What— _How_ —" She paused, a thoughtful look forming on her face, before deciding on, " _Why_ —” Her tone vacillated between curiosity and distrust.  “Why did you tell me to go out with Charlie?"  
  
In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. "Because," Severus answered gravely, "Charlie Weasley is your soulmate."

Hermione gaped at the object in her hand. A quiet giggle escaped her. It quickly turned into a chortle; and then a laugh; and then a guffaw. "Are you having me on?” She doubled over, wrapping her arms over her midsection as another wave of raucous laughter took over.

Severus leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed as he waited for his charge to come back to her senses.

It took several minutes.

“Are you quite done?” he hissed when she had finally quieted.

“First of all,” she said, straightening up to catch her breath, “there's _no such thing_ as a soulmate." Hermione picked up the pink object, which had fallen beside her on the mattress during her bout of mirth. She brought it up at eye level. "And, even if there was, I highly doubt that my bloody  _vibrator_  would be the one to tell me!"  
  
"Your what?" The term was new to him.  
  
She barked a laugh. "Wait. Do you not know what you are?"  
  
Hermione proceeded to tell him.

ooOOoo

  
"Hello?" She gave Billy Zane a gentle shake. "Still there?”  
  
It took almost a full minute before she got a response. "Yes," replied the grim voice.  
  
"Are you all right? Bit of a shock to realize your—erm— _purpose_ in life?" She couldn't help the mischievous smile that formed on her lips. "Billy?"  
  
"I'm here," he said, still sounding somber. "Let's…stop talking about it now."  
  
She chuckled. "Feeling a bit self-conscious, are you?"

“ _Ugh_ ,” was Billy’s reply. If Billy was a person, she could imagine him shaking his head.

“You know, it’s not so bad—you’re one of my favorite things in the world!” she goaded. “You’re always there whenever I’m stressed or having a bad day or feeling randy—”

Billy groaned.

“Of course, you _do_ have to spend the majority of your time up my twa—”

" _Enough_ ,  _Miss Granger_ ," he said sternly.

Her breath hitched. The way he said her name—it was both alien and familiar, like a wordless melody stuck in her head, a song she knew but couldn’t quite remember the name.

"Who are you, really?" she whispered. She turned the vibrator over again in her hands, inspecting for signs of tampering. "Obviously, you're not really a sentient vibrator. You must be using this as some sort transmitter or two-way radio."

Once again, she spelled revealing charms over the object and came up empty. She released a frustrated sigh. “Who the bloody hell _are_ you?”

"I believe I've already answered your question for today," her vibrator said. "Go on another date with Charlie Weasley, and I'll answer another one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos are appreciated!


End file.
